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Today, or yesterday, since I’m writing this in the middle of the night after which these events occurred, was Christmas for my little clan. It happens this way every other year. It is the way of the Broken Marriage. It is the way of The Divorced. My kids have all returned from their other homes. They unloaded, drug their things in, and sprawled out filling every open space in my once empty house. The noise level is unbearably loud, with all four voices often vying to be heard by notching up the sound meter higher, and higher. We are not a quiet family. Apartment life would not work at all for us. Whether, calling up to a child from downstairs or re-telling the latest events that happened while they were gone, the noise is never quiet. Or, it never was, until yesterday.